


The Weirdest thing Cysero Did in Warlic's Presence...

by ValorousOwl



Category: Artix Entertainment Universe, DragonFable
Genre: Amica Endurae, Implied Warlic/Cysero, M/M, Other, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Platonic Love, Romantic love, TW alcoholism, future death implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 08:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13586670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValorousOwl/pseuds/ValorousOwl
Summary: ...was befriend him.





	The Weirdest thing Cysero Did in Warlic's Presence...

It was late in the afternoon and Warlic had a problem.

 

Granted as far as things went, being tucked in the dim corner of an inn tavern, fretting over notes and nursing the first toddy of the afternoon wasn't the worst predicament he'd ever been in. Compared to life threatening missives to retrieve some old bastard’s lucky underwear from a liche’s crypt or retrieve some lost sprog from deep within a vampire Lord’s castle, this was nothing. Honestly, something was wrong with their society that both were such common occurrences to him at this point that he didn’t blink an eye. In his homeland, such a thing would never occur. Dissonance like that would have been snuffed out before such depravity could occur. On the other hand, as a mage of not terribly great renown, fresh from college, these quests were the bread and butter which kept him in clean robes and warm beds.

 

Or rather _did_.

 

The way things were going, he'd have a stable, exciting life as a wandering vagabond. He could always ingratiate himself to one mage or the next by doing series of fetch quests, for some trinket or Paramore or lost child or artifact. It was doable, not even grueling, work for his skill level. Things could easily stay the same but he'd never have enough money or enough time to commit to his own research. He could not advance himself mentally or in any kind of standing this way. If he couldn't even do that he could never really be satisfied.

 

Having left the school as he had, a Swordhaven professor being forced into retirement, one classmate imprisoned in a magic crystal of ice and another permanently cursed and disfigured, was another roadblock in his way. It didn't help his standing in any stretch of the imagination nor could he fix it with things being the way they were.

 

No, his only hope was to rise above his station. If he could prove he was more than any of these mortals bargained for he could become an established Mage in a guild, or maybe even an archmage. Then he’d have the proper resources and time to complete his research.

 

Then maybe he could fix his mistakes and help Alexander and Jaania.

 

But maybes were were as good as daydreams and potion fumes when it came to getting anything done. Right now the biggest thing standing in his way was his reputation. While people were happy to pass off busy work to him, and maybe trust him to deal with some of the more powerful beings in their way, he had to use equal parts diplomacy and violence there, they did not let him close, nor trust him with more important things. He could not advance and no one wanted an explosive mage who basically killed his other classmates in their guild. He could not be trusted.

They couldn’t see that he’d changed. They couldn’t see that he regretted what he did. They couldn’t see!

So he’d need to do and publish his own research. Rather, he’d have to see how principles of reality and magic, taught to him as a child in the Infernal Realm, affected this world. It had been made clear over the many years he’d been here that the magical research and understanding was not so advanced as in his homeland. So he’d have to do some independent research then publish. Then perhaps he’d be taken seriously as an intellectual and not just as a vastly powerful means to an end.

But research meant time and materials and those meant money and it also meant somewhere he could do said research. He doubted the various inns he called home would take kindly to his kind of experiments, even if they had the room to begin with. Most barely tolerated alchemy within their doors, less as a prejudice and more as a prudent concern when the innkeepers were the ones to have to clean it up.

He couldn’t return home. He knew his foster mother would support him, still. She had comforted him when he’d returned a failure and assured him with her knowledge of what was going to come that one day Xan would be healed and Jaania freed. The grimace she’d worn when she told him, the way her eyes didn’t quite meet his, led him to believe she may have been lying for his sake. Or perhaps it was just a long shot. Still, with orphan hatchlings, injured adults and old dragons seeking refuge, doing any kind of magical experiment carried with it the risk of harming another. He couldn’t do that when Sunbreeze Grove was a place of peace.

He knew his older brother would help him. Artix von Krieger may not share one drop of blood, but their similar heritage and deep devotion led Warlic to rely on him. Indeed anything he asked of him, likely Artix would have assured to happen. His brother would likely go to hell and back if Warlic asked him to. Which is why he _couldn’t_. He couldn’t take advantage of him like that, especially when Artix was basically in the same boat as him. He didn’t realize of course, the man was as trusting and loving as a goddamn labradoodle. He’d never realize how the Paladin Order used him.

It made him happy, Warlic couldn’t intervene even if he wanted to.

Warlic pressed his face into his hands and groaned. These thoughts weren’t helping. He finished his drink, paid and gathered his things, hoping a better solution would come to his mind if he walked a while.

 

He moved quickly through the tavern, it was filling up steadily with adventurers of all shapes and sizes, the bar filled with laughter and talk. He felt so out of place, like he was intruding on someone else’s party.

 

One adventurer put his arm around Warlic’s shoulders and drew him in close. He smiled drunkenly at Warlic and slurred, “Come on boy! Celebrate with us. Did you not hear that that paladin destroyed the Necromancer Vaahtee? That Artix sure is something, ain’t he?” His other hand pressed to Warlic’s side as he swayed, sliding to his hip and dipping dangerously close to his ass.

Warlic delicately smiled back and gently pried the other hand from his hip, and pulled the one from about his shoulder, leaving him awkwardly holding the man's hands. “My big brother really is, I’m proud of him.”

The statement confused the man long enough for warlic to slip from his grip and escape across to the exit before he finally said something, “Wait, ain’t you that guy?”

Warlic just smiled coyly and slipped out the door.

He dropped the smile once he was out in the cool night air, losing himself in the evening crowd of returning heroes and the day vendors turning in for the night. No one else stopped him and he was able to walk the length of the city a few times, letting various possibilities play out in his head. He needed a permanent, or at least semi permanent home. Somewhere he could do his work in privacy. He paced alone, his mind a million miles away so he didn’t hear when someone called his name.

 

“Warlic!”

 

Not once.

 

“Warlic! Hey!”

 

Not the second time either.

 

**“Warlic!”**

 

Only on the third time did he hear, and he didn’t have time to react before a pair of strong arms slid up around his waist and he was lifted off the ground. He dropped his staff in surprise, a beginner’s mistake and instead readied a spell in each hand. It was frowned upon to fight in town but he was being attacked dammit!

“Warlic, I found you,” The voice crooned, as the other squeezed him hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. He lost focus and the spells dissipated. “Man, buddy you’re a hard man to find when you wanna be, aren’t you?”

He struggled and twisted around, “Unhand me!”

The other immediately obeyed and warlic found himself ass-over-teakettle on the ground. Before he could prepare himself for a counter attack he was aware of a green blur in his peripheral vision. He sat up and scrambled back away from the other. It was a man about his age if he had to guess, dressed in a green tunic and pants with light armor and a hammer the size of his head hanging from his belt. The stranger seemed to be looking him dead in the eye despite his eyes being completely obscured.

“Don’t you recognize your best buddy, Warlic? It’s Cysero!” He grinned as if he was speaking to a particularly stupid puppy and Warlic felt himself bristling. How dare this person presume to know him so familiarly! Though, the name brought a tingle of recognition, something deep in his soul, something he didn’t quite understand.

“Sys-zero?” He repeated, wondering how the sounds got mangled when he’d repeated them. He’d heard him say it just fine.

“Nah, not this time, Cysero, like Sis-Arrow, it’s smoother anyway,” He corrected and smiled. “Man it’s been a while,”

“I don’t…” Warlic reached not so subtly for his staff, “I don’t know you.”

Cysero watched him before kicking the staff over to Warlic directly. “There you go buddy, do you feel safer now?”  His smile turned teasing, and Warlic was at once startled at how his heart began to beat hard in his chest.

“I don’t like this, whatever this is, if you want gold or something, I don’t exactly have any to spare.” He licked his lips, his mouth was so dry. This kind of fear was more than anything he’d ever experienced.

Cysero’s smile faltered and he seemed to be thinking deeply. “Wait, you think this is a robbery?”

“Or something! It’s very strange, _you’re_ very strange!” Warlic said.

“Thank you,” Cysero offered his hand to help him up.

“It was the truth,” Warlic said, hesitating before allowing the larger man to pull him to his feet. Cysero’s hands  strayed to his forearms to steady him. He felt betrayed by his own body yet again as his heart sped up again, and once more as he lamented the loss of those warm hands once Cysero released him.

“We haven’t met yet, have we? From your perspective I mean,” Cysero asked quickly.

“No, and what do you mean from my perspective?” Warlic huffed. “If you’ve been stalking me that’s your own fault, not mine.”

Cysero seemed to pause before belting out the kind of chest deep laughter that echoed back and caused people to stop and stare if they hadn’t been doing so before. Warlic didn’t like this kind of attention, but at least if the madman, and he truly thought him mad, tried anything there would be witnesses.

“No, Warlic, I’m talking about time, in my timeline this isn’t the first time we’ve met, but it’s probably your first time,” He smiled apologetically. “I should have been more delicate.”

Warlic dusted himself off. “You can’t mean time travel, that’s impossible,”

“For humans,” Cysero qualified.

Warlic froze and glanced over to him. Cysero cocked his head, his look curious, but there beneath his mess of dark brown hair, Warlic could see the shining inhuman light of something impossible. “....no….”

“Yes, Warlic, Yes,” His whole face seemed to light with the impossible energy as he realized Warlic caught on to what he was saying.

“Why are you here? Why me?” He asked softly, moving closer to the other.

Cysero said nothing for a moment, merely slid his arm around Warlic’s shoulders and steered him towards the park for some minor intimacy in the very public space. Warlic found himself relaxing and allowing himself to be led despite everything in his life up until this point telling him what a bad idea this all was.

“Because you’re my best friend, and right now you need some help, a place to stay, right?” Cysero explained. “So here I am.”

“What did you have in mind?” Warlic asked when they’d paused beneath a willow tree.

“A tower, in the Elemental Plains, plenty of reagents occurring naturally, more if you ingratiate yourself to local elementals,” Cysero explained.

“Good plan,” Warlic nodded, elementals were preferable to humans, being that far out he wouldn’t see too many of the latter. “What about food though?”

“There’s some natural ley lines running between there and Falconreach, enough to set up a permanent portal if one wanted,” Cysero explained. “And there’s a few small villages near enough to it, just an hour or two walking.”

Warlic nodded, “Then we don’t have to worry about farming,”

“I dunno, I enjoy gardening, honestly,” Cysero said in a way that suggested no ordinary crops would be involved. Warlic found himself more and more intrigued.

This Cysero was charming, he was different from the other magic users that Warlic had talked to so far. They were mostly obnoxious. He didn’t seem to discredit the more out there magic as impossible. Well why would he? He _was_ impossible and Warlic was loving it so far.

 

“But what about the cost of such a thing?” Warlic looked away, wishing the cool breeze would return.

“We can rent-to-own,” He smiled. “It’s leased out of Swordhaven, I believe,” He hummed.

“We’d need to make consistent money for that,” Warlic pointed out meeting his eyes again.

“I have a shop in Falconreach, it does good business, plus when it’s really big in the future, I can just give myself the capital if we need it.” Cysero explained. “I’ve thought about it a long time,”

“I don’t know if I’d make a good partner,” He frowned.

“I know you will, we can be at odds sometimes, but, we’re friends, best friends,” Cysero smiled. “It’ll be okay.”

“If you’re sure.” Warlic looked away. “I haven’t lived up to myself lately,”

Cysero reached over, tilting his chin back, making him look at him. “It’s okay, don’t give up. We can do this.”

Warlic leaned into his touch. He felt more at ease than he had in a while, the knot in his chest loosening. He smiled wanly and agreed, “I guess if my best friend says so I’ll have to trust him on it.”

“Good,” Cysero smiled and pulled back again. “So, we should probably head that way, we ought to make it by morning if we do.”

“And I am to believe you will not shiv me on the way there?” Warlic half joked.

“Of course not, I don’t even own a shiv.”

“Oh, and that hanging from your belt by your hammer?” Warlic hummed.

“It’s a knife Warlic, a dirk if we’re being technical.” He huffed. “Honestly, Warlic, I’m a blacksmith, I at least would have the respect and dignity to stab you with a proper knife, should I want your end.”

“You don’t want that?” Warlic asked.

“Of course not, there’s too many who do already.” Cysero soothed him. “But it’s only going to get later the longer we stand here. We should head out.”

“And what if we’re accosted by bandits on the way,” Warlic asked.

“We’ll deal with it, we could use the practice anyway.” Cysero waved him off.

“Oh?”

“Yes,” He said, his mouth a serious line. “We’re not in sync yet, and I don’t particularly like being out of sync.”

“Ah, I see,” Warlic did not in fact see it, but he was invested in seeing how far this went. “On that note, I know you said you wanted to do gardening, but how do we break it up?”

“I want to be in charge of explosions,” Cysero said as he began walking. Warlic froze for a minute and hurried to catch up to him.

“Excuse me?”

“I want to be in charge of explosions,” He said as if it was so simple.

“Fine by me, I suppose. I have no qualms against it, anyway,” Warlic hummed. “I could manage the finances then,”

“Sounds good,” Cysero seemed grateful. “Then we just handle the clean up in our own areas?”

“Assumably yes, I don’t mind picking up here and there, but if it’s a huge mess, whoever made it ought to clean it up.” Warlic explained.

“I can cook,” Cysero offered. “Though my tastes can be a bit out there.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, and otherwise I’d just have a liquid diet.” Warlic joked,chuckling bitterly. Cysero drew up short and Warlic ran straight into his shoulder. He would have fallen had not Cysero somehow whipped around and caught him by the arm.

“Warlic, that drinking habit is going to kill you one day.” He said with the certainty of death.

A shiver of cold ran through him. “It’s not, it… it’s not that bad.”

“Warlic,” He repeated solemnly, looking at him dead in the eyes again. “That shit is going to kill you one day.”

The moment, in the dark, cold night, with Cysero’s eyes blazing like starlight, holding his gaze with the desperation of a man who _knew_ . Cysero was saying something he knew to be an immutable truth. _Spoilers_.

Warlic felt his throat close up and his mouth go dry again and any protests die on his lips. In his mind he could see it too, in this moment shared with the madman he was thinking of as his best friend somehow, he could see his death.

He choked on fear,as his own words flitted through his mind, from some far off point, _Death is meaningless, we all float there_. He sounded so cold, so distant, so different from who he was now and who he thought he wanted to be.

There it was too, that which connected them, the warmth of something he had forgotten entangling in a way he didn’t quite understand. Cysero, kind, charming, wonderful Cysero, was there, as he always had been, a constant he wasn’t aware he was missing. He was terrified to lose him, even though he knew he would, always knew. What an awful burden to bear.

Cysero relaxed his grip, shifting, breaking his gaze and shaking him from whatever trance they’d just shared. “We have company.”

Then just as quickly they were back to back, fighting against bandits hiding in the dark, and Warlic couldn’t help but be aware of the distance between them now. Cysero hadn’t been lying about them not being in sync, and now he had some frame of reference. That inner warmth he’d felt before, the threads of fate that entwined them through the past and future, were clear to him. The distance between what was, would be and had been was clear as day.

It frightened him more than a little.

 

Even after all that, Cysero still sought him out, sought to help him, and more.

 

Gods, Cysero really was his best friend.

 

Poor Cysero.

**Author's Note:**

> This is posted without beta, just a little oneshot I had to get out since I'm back on Ask-Warlic.


End file.
